Somebody who wants 10 dollars.
You asked me to label myself. And right now, I am a girl who wants 10 dollars.
I am a lost wanderer, grappling with a shattered compass and a shiny broken timepiece. The direction I am going is new and bizarre, but at least I know it’s somewhere I have never been before and I have all the time I need to get there.
I'm a racist white,
I'm a sexist male,
I'm a stupid American,
I'm a spoiled millenial,
I'm too young to understand,
I'm an uncultured redneck,
- - -
I'm human like you,
I live on the same planet,
I was born in the same century,
I've got time to learn,
I grew up close to nature,
Perspective is everything when using labels
Scribbled On A Tattered Label.
Defender of innocence.
Harbinger of wisdom.
Writer of nonsense.
...If found return to Alexander Zeltmann.
Labeled once and for all
I blew across the tag to make sure it would dry without a smudge. Where I got the ink, I don't recall, but it's no more or less of an important detail than the practical cardstock itself, or the generic, attached, plastic bag. At this point, speaking for myself, it hardly mattered, but the next person to come along might wonder, and at minimum I know you had inquired about my title, so I feel I owe you at least this much regard; it's my understanding everyone is to be provided with one of each of these in a rationed sort of "civilian issue." Having fought the fight, I have resigned to everything being more or less ordained, if not predetermined. I had a mental list, of course, of the things for which you'd asked, and have promptly forgot. As a forethought I might have transcribed all of this onto the back of the card... for posterity. Haha, why not?! But it was after all, quite small... The bag, on the other hand, turned out to be just big enough. Single serve, I thought to myself, as I dressed up. The zipper's reversible, and the sack properly airtight.
I didn't suffocate, don't feel sorry. My time had come.
I was done: Cadaver No. 1001
<font face="Helvetica" size="3" color="silver">02.09.2018</font>
A Recipe of Disaster
An eccentric, hardly human, half-empty shell,
A patient, humorously shady, magician,
An awkward, foolish loophole-finder.
A dark, anti-political, introvert, prone to a default state of pushover'dness
An emotional child scared to face the horrors of humanity
A professional escapist stuck at eternal indecisiveness.
A slave of Yesterday,
A victim of Today,
A distant dreamer avoiding tomorrow.
looking for a label
A traveler------ who doesn't know where she's going
A classical music lover----- who plays banjo
A gardener--- of other peoples gardens
Has two left feet-----but dances salsa
Has no income------- but wants to buy a yatch
Avid writer ----------who rarely publishes
Owns more ukuleles than handbags
Happily married for more years than I care to admit---but writes sad songs of love and loss.
Scared of strangers-----but traveled solo for four months last year.
A technophobe----- writing this online
Been with the love of my life since I was 21--but we are not always together.
An adult----But hasn't grown up yet.
Hates labels---but has just found one
I’m afraid not.
A label implies a completed project. Something as a whole.
Mine would simply say:
"Work in Progress"
You label me by what you see
But what you see isn't what you get.
You see a young woman with a sharp mouth
But not the scars that lace her heart.
You judge a book by its cover,
And you're judging me by mine
Without ever bothering to open up the pages
And reading the entries within.
You think you know who I am,
When I don't even know who I am,
I spend so much time peeling labels off my skin,
Their words branded on my soul.
Look deep into my eyes
And tell me you haven't misjudged;
Stop picking one thing and defining me by it
While ignoring all the rest of who I am.
My skin is clouded by labels,
And all I'm asking of you is this:
When you see me, don't just add another label
Until you know the real me.
Some may call me nerd,
or a person who will lend
Some may call me kind,
or somewhere in between
Some may call me strange,
or a kid who can shine
But I call myself
a soccer player,
And I think I am
Does it matter what words I use?
I am me
and me is I
will have to do